My husband's poetry

Category: Family

  • haiku of a fiery tongue

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    by

    cfblack
    in ,

    practice kindliness it doesn’t take a flame to burn set a world on fire 4-25-23

  • For lack of empathy

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    by

    cfblack
    in , ,

    I don’t know why, but fifty years on I thought of you, tall lanky friend of my youth, we used to sometimes talk walking home from high school; me bombastic and loud, all full of myself; you quiet, deferential and shy. We never became close; you a confirmed loner me a loner, hidden beneath layers…

  • Two lifetimes ago

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    by

    cfblack
    in , , ,

    two lifetimes ago, returning from a lonely hike In mushroom mountains sat under a bush, light rain falling in the yard of a church I did not attend Johnny Cash sang about Sunday morning coming down on the radio of an idling car I left my body unburied, never returned and found a new one…

  • Run-on sentence memory of Dad

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    by

    cfblack
    in , , , ,

    My father dropped me off my first year of college, notebooks, pens, a dictionary and Bible in a cardboard box and a dress shirt I never wore on a hanger my mother packed for church and a suitcase of clothes, I was not an easy child to raise and he was nervous about me going…

  • The day before

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    by

    cfblack
    in , ,

    Today is the day before The first day of revelation’s festival, The day before the flood, The day before roses found their purpose, The day nightingales gathered to Sing of Ancient Beauty in the moonlight. The day before paradise’s garden reappeared. Tomorrow, I will not go to the gym. And will focus on the purpose…

  • Sunrise walking meditation

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    by

    cfblack
    in , , ,

    When light peeks over my neighbor’s roof, I walk in the park, recite the name of God on fingertips, say prayers for the living and the dead. In greening woods, a bird intones, high low, high low, high. From untrimmed shrubs of an empty house a reply comes, high low, high low, high. 4-19-23

  • Graveside manners

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    by

    cfblack
    in , , ,

    I still carry my father’s casket, Holding onto the side rail As we pull him from the hearse, Unable to release my grip And say goodbye. I have questions in need of answers And he still won’t give them up, Even in death. I still carry my father’s casket Hoping he answers – just once.…

  • Retired

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    by

    cfblack
    in , ,

    He sat in his front yard, retired Waved at every car that drove by, because Some he knew, some he thought he knew, Some he wanted to know Some he knew he didn’t know, but It made him laugh to think They went to work and tried All day to remember how they knew him…

  • Mother’s lilies

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    by

    cfblack
    in , ,

    Do the lilies still rise up from cold ground by Easter Sunday Mother would marvel at their white gowns moving with the wind. Blossoms on long stems gold dust falling from stamens onto petal lips? 4-9-23

  • The handkerchief

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    by

    cfblack
    in ,

    Dad pulled it from his left back pocket folded to a dry spot and said, “Blow” It grossed me out one small square of cloth for all my siblings lined up in a pew To save my dignity I carried my own handkerchief quit sniffling in church or using my sleeve Sixty years on, I…